Song
by Bryher
Summary: He tried to save everybody, but she didn't want to be saved, did she? Oneshot.


**Title;** Song

**Rating;** M

**Summary;** I'd thought about extending this ficlet into a short story, but I lack ideas. However, I did have this one stored in my head for a bit; a little extra bit for Ailis-70, using a character from "On The Ice", another ficlet post of mine. Arthur and Song.

**Review;** Please.

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Her slim figure was engulfed in an overlarge shirt, tunic and breeches; the only item of clothing that seemed to fit was her boots. It was because of this that he recognised her, a small figure in the darkened hallway, stumbling, as though drunk. But Song didn't drink.

She moved from the shadows and into the flickering torchlight, curly dark hair falling over her face.

Arthur frowned; she was limping again. He watched as she leant against the wall for a moment, raising a slight hand to touch shaking fingers to her mouth.

Rage coursed through him when they came away red.

Stepping out into the corridor, he said clearly, "Song?"

She looked up, startled, hair swinging back to expose a split lip and a blackened eye. As soon as they came into view, they were gone again as she shifted so that her hair slipped back over the wounds. A hollow look stole over her face; Arthur inwardly grimaced; it was the look that came over her when she didn't want to talk.

"Artorius."

This time, he winced. "I've asked you not to call me that."

"And I have declined- it is only proper," Song mumbled, words stumbling around her swollen mouth.

Arthur noticed that her clothing was rumpled slightly, the right hand sleeve separated from it's join at the shoulder slightly, exposing a graze.

Song took in a breath and straightened.

"If that is everything, My Lord, I-"

"Why do you never fight back?"

Song closed her eyes patiently, before answering in a low, tired voice.

"If I do, I'll be thrown straight in the Gaol. I don't want to die in there. Not like that."

Arthur left the sanctuary of his doorway and took a few steps towards her.

Song didn't move, but regarded him with a wary gaze.

"Song, I-"

"Artorius, you can't save everybody."

Arthur took a step back, hurt flashing across his features. Song looked towards her feet, and then back up.

Tears welled in her eyes, the stormy blue depths swirling with misery and sadness. Determination also burned there, but in those eyes was the pain of a much older woman, a haunted woman.

Grimly, Arthur shook his head, motioning for her to come.

"I'm going to clean you up."

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The water in the bowl became tinged a light pink, the little swirls of blood clouding in the surface dissipating into the rest of the liquid with ease.

Arthur's rooms were comfortable and clean, with a simple, homely atmosphere amongst the scrolls, bits of weaponry and numerous tunics and breeches lying discarded on the hard floor. Torchlight cast warm shadows onto the walls and onto the pair sat at the washstand. Hands folded demurely in her lap, Song sat obediently as Arthur cleaned off her mouth and her shoulder, for which she had to remove her outer tunic, tugging her shirt as far over her clean, pale skin as far as it would allow before exposing the ugly scrape. Her eye was only slightly bruised, needing no cool cloth to calm it, though there would undoubtedly be a sunrise on her cheek over the next few days.

Dropping the linen bandage he had been using as a cloth into the bowl, Arthur watched as it unfurled in the water, thinking.

Song stood, reaching for her tunic, which lay on the bed.

"Wait."

Obediently, Song paused, looking over her shoulder to Arthur, who sat watching her with confused eyes.

"Who did this?"

Song's gaze flickered to the floor, studying the mosaic pattern in one of the tiles with trepidation.

"I don't know."

"You lie."

"Yes."

At her last word, Arthur stood, taking her by the shoulders, wary of her wound. "That wasn't a question, Song."

She looked up, resignation in her eyes. "I know, Artorius."

"Arthur."

"It is not-"

"I don't _care _what is proper and what isn't! Someone has been beating you up!" Arthur shouted, releasing her shoulders and stalking around her, running his hands through his curls in frustration, tugging on the darks strands in anger.

Turning, he gave the small woman an anguished look.

"Why can't you just tell me?"

Song smiled softly and took at seat on his bed, smoothing the furs over with careful fingertips. Looking down at her hands, she whispered, "I've already told you, you can't save everyone. You cannot save me. I will always be hated for where I am from and what I did, this, I'm afraid, you cannot change, Artorius. You cannot save me from myself."

Arthur took a ragged breath and knelt at her feet, taking both her hands in one of his, using his other hand to tilt her face up to meet his eyes.

"It is you I wish to save the most."

Song frowned in confusion, and then, her eyes widened.

"Artorius, I-"

He kissed her.

This was not a shy kiss of an inexperienced boy, nor that of a man using a woman for his desires. Passion, heat, frustration and desire fuelled with desperation embroiled into one, searing kiss, his large hands gently holding the back of her head, tilting her face to one side as he eased his mouth over hers, coaxing the young woman to open her own soft lips.

Tentatively, Song brought one hand up to slide over Arthur's linen clad arm, the other gently gripping the curls at the nape of his neck.

Carefully, Arthur pushed her until she lay on her back, his own larger frame lying atop hers, his hips crushed to her pelvis, legs entwined as their kiss became deeper, hands now tugging at clothes and buckles, breath laboured-

"Arthur."

Shock froze him in place, lips above her neck, hands peeling her shirt away from her shoulders.

Raising his eyes to hers, the Roman Commander did not need to say anything.

"Arthur," Song said again, his true name an oddity on her tongue.

"Save me."

"Always and forever," he whispered reverently, lowering his mouth to hers with relief in his heart.

She could be saved.

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Please review. 


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